30 December 2010

My day ends as yours begins
And the sun has yet to
Rev it's celestial engine
To melt the glassy ground,
Frozen by the cold heart
Of the night, and maybe
A little bit of slushy rain.

Despite the frigid ice below,
Crackling under my heavy weight
The air is docile, percolated
Only by the residual droplets
Of water falling from treecicles.
I wonder why I'm up this early
Or if I'm "up" if I didn't lay down.

I see windows filled with light
Dotting the dark down the street.
It is a foreign world to me, Dawn,
And I find myself enamoured by
The introspection it allows.
Unlike the rest of our fast-paced world
There is a chance to forget about Time.

Look back on this years from now and laugh. Laugh at how we differ in our perceptions of the world. Laugh about how it mattered immensely to find somebody to love. Realize that you've become cold, but also realize that you're in control of how you live your life. Don't ever get old. Not too old, anyways. Just progressively more wise. Smack yourself on the forehead for me, because no matter what age we are, it is just in our nature to feel as though we already know everything in the world. Become a dad, and a damn good one at that. Somewhere between the "cool dad" and the guy the kids fear and respect just enough to always maintain authority. You better have published a masterpiece or I'm going to be severely disappointed. Hopefully you've kept that eternal optimism I tote with me so openly. There isn't much to complain about in life and if you play your cards right, everything usually works out. Write a book of letters back and forth from youthful Trey to an older Trey. Notice that I didn't say more mature, because I don't know if that will ever happen for sure. Think back to all of the girls who broke your heart and all those who you broke. Make sure that you apply some sort of lesson to every mistake. Make enough money to live, and spend enough to be happy. No need to hoard it, you can't take it with you when you die. Buy yourself a Porsche. Spite your old man who's wanted one his whole life, or maybe, if you're doing really well or don't give a shit about cars anymore, buy it for him. It'll make him feel young again. That's all for now. Write me back describing all the immense, prolific and painful things you come across. I'll be waiting forever.

29 December 2010

As we dream day in
And out there exists--
A hope for the uncertain
Tomorrow. I try not predict
What events may transpire,
For it would mean, in essence,
To wound the spontaneity
Of what remains unknown.
So while we aspire to create
From the limitless bounds
Of our expanded minds feeble,
The horizon of our children's
Fiery forbidden youth.
Keep in mind that
The reality in which we leave
Them may be less favourable
Than the sanctum of
What is dreamt.
"And as I conclude my days,
Alone as I ever was...
You may disturb my sleep,
But please don't wake me up."

You're the perfect
Progression of chords.
In a way that our notes
Harmonize, parallel.
With each thought that
Enters and exits my mind.
It's the same feeling I get,
When watching the snowfall
From the warmth of inside.
As I press my hand to the glass
And feel the frigid warmth.
You wisp me up and break
Me back down in
Muted, beautiful silence.
Then you pluck again
The strings that drive
My soul and I know
The happy ending is
You.

28 December 2010

Desenrascanco (Portuguese): A phrase used to describe an improvised solution to a problem at the last minute, without premeditation and few simple resources. It literally means to disentangle oneself from a bad situation.

Tatemae and Honne (Japanese): So I cheated, these are two separate words used to describe what one pretends to believe and what one actually believes, respectively.

Shlimazl (Yiddish): Someone who encounters nothing but bad fortune.

Espirit d'escalier (French): Literally meaning "the wit of the staircase," this phrase describes the act of discovering a perfect retort in hindsight to a situation.

Saudade (Portuguese): A introspective and deep emotional state of longing for something an individual was, at one time, very fond of but now has lost.

Mamihlapinatapai (Yaghan): A look between two individuals that suggests an unspoken, shared desire.

Sgriob(Gaelic): The tingling sensation that subjugates the upper lip just before taking a sip of whiskey.

Filotimo (Greek): This phrase is one of the most difficult to translate from it's Greek origin. Essentially translating to "love of honor," this phrase demonstrates the capacity of a male to always act or insist on acting in a manner that will most bring him pride, and dissuade an individual from performing any actions that will diminish that sense of pride or honor. (e.g not allowing a woman to purchase him food or drink, as this would exemplify that he is not manly or successful enough to be able to instead purchase said item for her, therefore diminishing his self-worth.)

Stam (Hebrew): A communal agreement between those talking that there is no satisfactory answer. Usually this derives out of a combination of amusement and frustration for the situation.

Forelsket (Norwegian):The euphoria or ecstasy one experiences when first falling in love.

Waldeinsamkeit(German): The feeling of being alone in the woods.

Ilunga (Tshiluba, Congo): A phrase describing an individual who can forgive abuse once, tolerate it on the second occasion, but never in its third instance.

Taarradhin (Arabic): A way of resolving a problem without anyone losing. It is not the same as the English word 'compromise' as in this situation, everybody wins.

Litost(Czech): A state of distress created by the realization of one’s own misery or self-depreciation.

Meraki(Greek): To do something with soul, creativity, or love.

Duende(Spanish): To perform at one's highest aptitude or demonstrate the extent of the human spirit through a performance or work of art. Typically fulfilled by the likes of flamenco dancing, bull-fighting, etc.

26 December 2010

Is it ever daylight?
Despite my erratic sleep
Patterns. At least I make note
I feel the onset of
A headache when finally
I come across the veiled sun
Behind the skyward blanket.
I've become a man of the night
In these recent years,
As my dreams are haunted
By things worse than demons,
Like my failures and lost loves.
So instead I orchestrate
My own imagined worlds
Where the blank page
Is my world to be,
My words the tool I sculpt with
And where I surely have more
Than 7 days in which to finish.

I'm waning slowly into the dark
Like the moon high above
In the post-hype of
Last week's total eclipse.
Thinking on to futures
That have yet to exist
And roads untravelled.
Where do they take me?
I care not, for I believe
Of sanctity in mile markers
And sanity in going 15 over.
To the corners of our country
Though nothing is determinate.

I've been told by people
More boring than myself
To seek a more stable future
For the sake of my family
Or the potential to find one.
And I look back at them
Into their eyes jejune
And think without speaking
Don't doubt what I already know.

24 December 2010

From the new desk of Trey Campbell on his ultra-portable Acer Aspire One:

I've been considering long and hard what it means to leave something behind. I've by no means abandoned my trusty Macbook Pro, yet I find myself greatly intrigued with this new device. It isn't nearly as powerful, has a fair share of glitches and the keyboard is borderline too small for my fingers. At the same time, I've found myself working on it for hours to manage the resources properly, fix the glitches and learn to type in a new way, so I could post to you, my loyal readers. So what exactly leads an individual to leave something behind, something that works perfectly well? Are we really so shallow a society that we need the latest, shiniest update to look at? Maybe it is our attempt to keep up with the figurative Jones'. Regardless, our society is never content with the status quo. It is both our greatest strength and primeval weakness. It drives our innovative brains forward to developments unimaginable. This desire has cured disease, saved resources and forced our world into a global view. No longer are we limited to our local regions. The world is at our fingertips because of this trait. At the same time, we've produced a lot waste as we dispose of what isn't "good" enough anymore. Things that could be re-purposed instead sit on our shelves collecting dust. So, on the eve of a holiday focused on giving, consider what it means to be in possession of the latest and greatest. Of course, I'm not asking you to change your lifestyle; there are pros and cons to each outlook. Just keep it in mind, enjoy the holidays, find a way to relax (mine is blogging!), bundle up, get cozy with somebody and look for the best that life has to offer.

22 December 2010

Is it possible? That a physical location can be hallowed? That a certain part of the world has some weaker barrier between what we know as reality and something transcendent? In a world as fast-paced as ours, who really takes the time to slow down and understand these questions? Is it possible that I could write an entire blog post written only in question? I don't know, but it makes me consider from time to time why, when I'm in a certain place I can potentially write for hours and hours, despite it being no different than the couch I fall asleep on all too often in my apartment? We receive all this formal training in school, but at what cost? It calls into question why we are all so part of a socially constructed system? Historically, have there not been individuals who are not self-taught? Surely, seeing as, correct me if I'm wrong, nobody taught the guy in the beginning, right? So why is it that I'm wasting my time and money sitting around classrooms instead of travelling and honing my voice through my own methods? Is it because that would require an indefinite amount of time, money and talent, to which I arguably lack? Or perhaps it is my own fault, because I lack a confidence in my ability to prevail over the "system"? Perhaps I didn't realize what I wanted until I'd come this far into the system, thus making it one of necessity in the individual's quest to learn? How'd I get so off track? Is a location sacred because it channels the muses of dead writer's gone? Or is it psychosomatic, where we create this perception of inspiration because it aided those inhabiting the land before it? Or is everything psychosomatic, a long dream in which we will only awaken and rise when we fade into the surly grip of Death?

I yearn to find the sacred place
Where sand and stairs and stars all meet
The venn diagram of my broken dreams
My frequent flyer card maxed on points
In vain, for the blackout dates impede.
The progress stands in remiss
As money colors green our hearts
And dreams fade into lustful obsession
To get more. More. MORE!
So when you reach two roads in a yellow wood
Look inside for your compass
And guide yourself true
Or risk a life where fulfillment
Comes solely to your wallet.
Those who believe, and actually believe
Loathe the concept of playing it safe
For with the stringing of a safety net
Comes a kindred soul.
When can one feel the best kind of alive...
If there is no thrill of failure.
Walk the tightrope over the throes of life
And look down if you want.
Find balance in that which you love
And waste time with it as I do now.

To write with such constraint is to dissuadeAll but the most of witty poet's hand.Into the mainstream it cannot pervadeThis archaic method we will remand...Or 'gainst the test of time will it withstand?Surely as man demeans the written wordHe will try and portray this form as canned.Yet us warriors of words will have preferred
Discover in its beauty inspiration spurred.

21 December 2010

The shadow of God passes us above,
A swarm of color that's blacker than black,
The eclipse burns dark like a tarnish'd love
While the innocent tilt their heads far back
And their souls touch the blanket o'er top
Like lemmings yearning for shadowy death
As star's tears repress and fail to drop
And the cool night gale yields but a breath.

Here's to you, darkest night in 456 years. Now may the night grow even darker as my eyelids become heavier. Goodnight moon, wherever you're hiding.

18 December 2010

I was recently inspired and challenged to write a short piece on-the-whim with no real intent, bur rather to write and see where it took me. Here is what I came up with, a short piece on a youthful man contemplating the options of his future. Thanks for the inspiration. :)

His life was in the quintessential limbo that so many of our generation experience at the conclusion of college. Where would the road lead next? Uncertainty had become a nagging whisper in his ear, and while seeking stability in a time when it was far and few between, that nagging became at least a sliver of comfort. One thing that he still had in his favor were options. His education and careful planning allotted him the freedom to explore many different careers for as long or short as he so desired. Sure, he had friends who would walk out of college making 100k a year. Would they be happy? Perhaps.

That kind of security wasn't worth the risk of a mundane life to him, though. Some would consider him a free-spirit. Not looking to be tied to one job or location for too long. The world is far too vast a place to be limited to a handful of square miles, and to live and conclude life without experiencing as much as humanly possible seemed an outrageous notion. At the same time though, there was always the lingering fear in the back of his mind that he'd end up alone. A man with all the stories in the world to tell, with distant friends scattered to all corners of the globe, yet have no family to show for it; nobody to come home to and share all of the highs and lows of these trips. It seemed as though there had never been more binary a decision in life. It would be most selfish to blend the two, living a life where he asked his family to uproot themselves for his own benefit. At the same time, he would be doing himself a disservice to not go out and live.

Fortunately, there was still time to make those decisions. Nobody was holding a gun to his head, and even if they were, he'd have a lot to show for the life he'd lived thus far. Nothing ahead of us is guaranteed, meaning the importance drawn from these irrational thoughts of tomorrow is that the only way to live is in the now. No need to dwell on the past, nor hypothesize about a future which has not yet happened. The only thing that he can count on right now is being here in the now, experiencing the kind of life he loves, perhaps with her.

There lies within us all
The ability to relive
And change that which we
Wish to forget.
Though we should never forget
What makes us as we are now.
But just in case we so choose
There exists the ability
To reboot the system, so to speak.
And when we flip that switch,
The slate wipes clean,
Leaving only distant memories
Of the world past.
But with the rise of what's new,
Be weary, for even in infinite wisdom
The temptation and yearning
Towards the new journey
Can be misleading.
Life remains the same,
And although we may change
Don't flip that switch too many times,
And forget what makes you,
Who you are to another.

15 December 2010

This chapter soon concludes
In lieu of the next big drop
The next great high
That comes with the territory
Of January 1st.
So let's put December behind us
And look into our respective futures.
I think I'll be alright, yeah.
No time to waste like the present,
Yet we'll never get it back again...

13 December 2010

Half a day has passed,
And what to show of it?
Hours wasted, or memories made?
I lose my inspiration with each
Passing tick of the second hand
Yet gaining motivation
As the time counts down
Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines.
At least my demeanor is good
To do both hard work and play
The ebb and flow of my voice
Either questioning literature
Or why I ate an entire bag of chips.
I completed many more important
Things than the mundane tasks
Of academia.
Like laundry, or cooking burgers
Or cleaning the radioactive floor
Of my bedroom.
I shaved my face and drank beer
In the shower, that's multitasking.
I didn't purchase anything, meaning
I've the capacity to be frugal.
I talked to friends and went to the gym.
So despite it being 12 hours later,
Today was a good day.

10 December 2010

Today, distance was obscured by fog
Although the weather was cloudless.
I try and not consider the global view
In favor of living in each moment
For it could very well be my last.

So familiar and so alien a notion
To determine one's own worth
Because we may be judgmental
It is easy in ways to criticize ourselves
And in others, we hone our ability
To lie, internally, until we begin
To believe our own lies
And consequently, in ourselves.

The more I feel free
The more alone I get
As life fulfills around
Me, I remain a lone wolf
And likely for the better
As I know what I can do.
Mend the most broken heart
Or damage it irreversibly.
Yes, there is no room for a
Respect for myself when
I know it to be true that,
There exists one like myself,
The creator of dreams
But also of nightmares.
Consider this fair warning,
Where you get me candid, untested
My will is free to express
That which I otherwise would withhold.
A hopeless romantic in a fear-driven world,
Where you all fare better without...

06 December 2010

Waiting, waiting, waiting
I'm always pushing the limits
The boundaries of what is feasible
Physically, mentally, emotionally
No time for sleep, no time for work
Because I only get either when
There isn't enough left.
Call me a pressure player
But I like feeling the heat
In an otherwise cold world.

03 December 2010

This barren wasteland
Naked and splattered with snow
The hardened rock remains cold
And plentiful
As far as my eyes dare to look.
There she is!
Hopping around the uneven terrain
Below her mocassined feet.
The white dress camouflaging her
Shifting like a snow leopard
Across the barren land.
Where is she going?
What is she looking for?
Diligent and determined
As the omnipresent environment
Around her shifts and distorts.
The moment of beauty passes,
But my keen memory of her remains
The girl who stopped the planet for seconds
Before the struggling return of the Fog;
Into the world surrounding us all.
Harmonizing simplicity and chaos.
Tranquility and supreme danger.
Run!

This is the third in my set of BT's "This Binary Universe" poetry. This piece, which is titled after the Ancient Greek calculator thought to be the first computer, consists of BT's ambient melodies juxtaposed with a powerful 110-piece orchestra. For my inspiration, I watched the video associated with the piece, as BT has commissioned an equally ambient and abstract video to correspond to each of his seven tracks.

01 December 2010

The gentle first snowfall
And the cold, windy precipice
Contradict one another, war and peace.
Non-respectively, of course.
And while each flake tones
The respective sharp bells
A xylophone of intricate crystals
Melting upon contact with our warmth.
The warmth that is powered by our souls.
Each drum of our heart like a bass kick
Deep, powerful, unrivaled
I try to interfere with gravity
As I contort my neck back.
Time slows and the world around me fades
And all that remains are me
The sidewalk under my feet
And the snowy sky above.
I try to feel each flake hit my face
A combustion of hot and cold
This Binary Universe as we invent
For in my experiment,
I've resulted in water.
Happiness.
Sensation.

This is my continuation of the BT "This Binary Universe" poetry set for the week, as inspired by the album. I plan on writing a piece to associate with each of the 7 songs on the album. I hope you enjoy what I've done, as I've drawn heavy inspiration from each song.

30 November 2010

I know I'll surely spend this whole life figuring
Out how to do things right, how to care
About somebody other than myself
Just in the nick of time to show Death
That I understand what it means to Love
As he whisks me away gracefully.
And I'll accept
For by that point so far off
I will walk alone, the errs of my youth
Eternally damning me to my own
Inflated megalomania.
Worry not for me, family, friends, lovers.
For I will See You On The Other Side
A man reborn, the phoenix arising
From the ashy, unrecognizable remains
Of where once walked a man naive.
Embrace me with open arms
As mine will already have risen for you
And by then I'll say with confidence
That I know how to care.
That I know how to be yours.
And not a moment sooner.
Eternity,
Is a very long time.

This poem was inspired by the BT song of the same name, "See You On The Other Side." As I listened to the magnum opus of this phenomenal ambient electronic artist's 14 minute serenade, I fell into a deeper state of being, candid in comparison to my everyday thoughts. I'm still pondering over the lines, searching for meaning, but perhaps, like I have already said, I'll figure it out at the very end.

29 November 2010

Personally, I find that living life in a more polar mentality always yields more satisfying results. I know that people say "everything in moderation" and how the best life lived is one of balanced proportions. I just don't know. I like to give everything my all or nothing. 100% or forget about it. If I care enough about something, I'll put all of my efforts into being fiercely loyal to that endeavor. If I'm half-assing it and just being lazy, I probably don't really believe strongly about it. I also strongly feel like many others feel the same way as I do. All of our emotions should be "all or nothing." You wouldn't go love somebody 50% or in moderation. When you're sad about something, it isn't like you cry 5 tears and say, "ok, if I cry any more than that I'm going to be too extreme." The point I'm making is that despite the fact that I sometimes sense my life missing some balance, if I were to keel over and die at this very moment, I could say that I lived a pretty damn good life. I have been in love, and lost it. I've seen new life come into the world, and both the young and old, strangers and friends alike, leave it in all manners. I've seen people go down fighting, and also unjustly. I've experienced most emotions, and experimented into dangerous territories. I have some of the best friends in the world, despite that you think yours are better. They might be good, but I would bet anything on my crew. Why would you want to live a life of safety and mediocrity, only to fade into a sort of generic remembrance, where your remaining legacy will be the epitaph upon your grave? I'd much rather go out, get into some trouble, burn a few bridges, make a name for myself and do something that people will think to themselves and say, "Wow. Trey really lived." Feel free to share your opinions in the comments, let me know that what I'm saying is complete bullshit or perhaps that I convinced you to pack your bags and become an opium dealer in the Himalayas for the next 10 years. I'd love to hear it.

26 November 2010

The misshapen branches silhouetted
Against a frigid still-frame beyond
The yellow and blue of late afternoon
And of early Winter's dark yearning.
While these brick walls protect me
From the cold that lies beyond
I sit alone for the first time in weeks.
Truly alone, in the most healthy way.
A long time coming, my frantic life
Paces itself down to that of
The misshapen branches silhouetted
As my frigid, still frame looks on.

21 November 2010

Well, world. I'm feeling rather motivated. Even a little borderline cocky. I've been working on law school applications, despite my general disinterest in pursuing it over a life of fame and infamy in the form of being an important canonical author of the 21st century. I've got the world in my hands and I don't feel as though I have any limitations. There are no real ties holding me down and the sky is the limit. It is refreshing knowing I can forge my future, do what I want and not have to worry about any real repercussions for my actions, for now anyways. Maybe on Tuesday I'll change my mind and get worried. Therein lies the beauty of youth. Worlds come and go and change at the drop of a hat. Single conversations act like icebergs, singing the unsinkable, leaving behind hundred to the frigid unforgiving depths of the winter ocean. But for now, I'm looking at the sun rising each next morning. It is almost like feeling invincible. I even took on the task of a complete website redesign tonight. I always seem to stretch myself thin, but if I'm not testing my limits, then I'm not really living. I might as well try to hit every extreme imaginable. And with an imagination as warped and potential ridden as my own, I feel like I'm crafting the ground I put each foot down on each day. No need to rest after six days, because there is surely some way I can further my goals on day seven. OK, I'm ego checking myself now, for my own good and to keep you from thinking that I'm having delusions of grandeur. Don't worry about me though. I'm not going to let myself fail. You're reading my writing here, but hopefully someday, when you, my faithful readership, have your respective families and lives and careers on all parts of the world, you come across something written about me. That would really bring a smile to my face. I would know, for certain, what I'm anticipating so heavily in this post. Go ahead and call me the next Kanye West, being so arrogant and boldly stating it to the world. It is OK. There is no such thing as bad publicity. I'll deal with each problem as they happen, one at a time, because that is how success is made. Never giving up. For to accept defeat either means you've learned something new, which may mean a loss of a battle, but the war persistently wages onward, or else, it means you didn't try hard enough. There is no way to be considered a loser if you gave it 100%, and then some. Just know that your mind is your greatest friend and your greatest enemy. The emotions you experience can draw you down into the murky depths of self-doubt, a place which in no way will help you grow. Conversely, the bounds of your mind also dictate the pace at which you further your achievements. That's all for now. Expect some poetry next post.

19 November 2010

I've been considering how far sheer determination can go. At an author reading following the Hopwood Writing Awards two years ago, Tobias Wolff told me the single best piece of writing advice one can possess is the ability to persevere. To write everyday. To write through the shit, the good and bad, because there will be days when the writing is bad. Because, the success of an author is not who gets the lucky break, but rather who develops their repertoire enough. It is one instance in which determination outweighs raw talent. I'd like to say I have a little bit of both working in my favor. Maybe not that much talent, but if I can convince a crowd of a personal belief or that a story is accurate, I've done my task. There is nothing more rewarding than planting an idea in the head of another. It reminds me of the summer blockbuster, Inception. It is a dangerous trait to be able to use the power of suggestion and planting thoughts to alter the complete happenings of an individual. To either undermine or reinforce that which they wholeheartedly believe. I vouch that it was not my English, nor Greek nor humanities, arts, sciences or other various credits that made college worthwhile. It was the relationships. The people who walked in and out of my life these past four years. It is the worst they had to offer or the best they could possibly give. The heartbreaks and the turmoil, but also, the nights I dragged on all of too long. It was in the moments that shouldn't have happened were it not for a perceptive and observant grouping of minds. My friends are some of the best out there. I'm lucky for that. I'm lucky for my enemies and rivals too. If it weren't for you guys, there is no way I'd be as strong as I am now. Yes, yes, I'm very certain it all sounds so cliched. In some ways it does, but that is just because each person must draw such conclusions. It happens at different points in each individual's life. For me, it took all of high school and the greater majority of my college years. I now know the value of friendship, trust, love. I know who is real and how to detect that. I am aware of how to shape my words into a calming hypnosis-inducing trance of sentences, floating down a gentle stream like that of a water lily. It is an ambitious ability and one that should not be taken lightly. I've hurt many people saying too much of the right stuff. Likewise, I've tried to rescue people from themselves. You can't. No matter how hard you think an individual can be changed, I've just found it to be a futile waste of everybody's time. With that territory comes drama and many many long nights. Irrational thoughts and soundless arguments. The key is in finding the balance, between saying what is right and what may hurt somebody. Sometimes they are the same. Sometimes, you have to tell a lie. Always, you should do what you feel is right. At no compromise. If you believe you are right, you probably are. One way or another, the ever shifting world will calibrate to your actions. OK, I'm done preaching now. Just understand the power of a promise, the way words can be more beautiful than Adonis or Hera or any action. Don't abuse such potential. OK, now I'm really done preaching.

18 November 2010

Have you ever noticed a particular name or finding to come up over and over again? I'm experiencing a strange sort of varient of deja-vu. Basically, today I came across an author I've loved for some time--John Irving. What a fantastic author. However, today I was perusing the book cases at my office where there was a book by Irving, "Widow for a Year." It piqued my interest because I hadn't run across his name since the connection between Jimmy Eat World's song "Goodbye Sky Harbor" and the book "A Prayer for Owen Meany," to which the song draws it's climactic inspiration. The name stuck out in my head so I read a little bit more on Mr. Irving. It seems as though he is famous for several pieces, including The Cider House Rules, which, believe it or not, my friend was watching this morning when I was chatting with her. It was 2 occurrences in 1 day. To further stupefy my curious brain, I was on Facebook and saw my cousin had a status about his dog getting bit while on a walk. His friend, Topher, decided to link my cousin to a paragraph from an Irving book titled, "Last Night in Twisted River." The part of the book he referenced was about dog attacks. I was beginning to find myself very weirded out by all of these references in such a short timespan. Perhaps Irving himself was channeling me. I take these matters very seriously and it seems as though what we view as coincidences often compile on one another. If my thoughts seem scrambled and not conveyed that well in this post, my apologies. I just wanted to get it out on paper, I'll do you all a favor and reflect on this writing later when I have a more clear mind and some hindsight. It'll sound a lot better, promise!

My deepest apologies for nearly a week off the grid. I have been both overwhelmed and under the weather. It all stemmed from an amazing weekend of nearly nonstop raving. Having seen Pretty Lights Friday night, and a 9 hour Detroit warehouse rave on Saturday, I wore down my body to the point of pure exhaustion. It was quite an accomplishment, as I'm always testing the boundaries of what I am capable of. However, it is a dangerous territory in which I delve, as I always take my achieved limitations to mean that I can now go one step further up the ladder rung of physical capability.

I've since enjoyed many long hours of sleep, as my body has locked me out and reduced me to a near-hibernatory state-of-being. Towards the end of it all, I was having some ridiculous hallucinations and dreams. I was falling asleep on the whim, enjoying what several 8-minute naps I could knock out between classes or before work. In that place of extreme existence, I felt so close to a parallel world. The kind of place that coexists but is just out of our mind's grasp. There is much out there that I feel we cannot possibly be aware of, for either a lack of desire to know, or perhaps an inability to comprehend the full extent of this alternate realm. In that exhaustion though, I felt it. The presence was there, and though I was at the end of the rope, I never felt more alive in my life. The things I was seeing, the way I perceived the world around me, it all seemed so trivial in comparison to the plethora of knowledge that existed around me. In the ultimate quest for self-awareness, I began to understand just how minute our roles in the world ultimately are. I considered the triviality of our everyday occurrences, and how we create such drama over the minuscule lives we live. As we become enlightened to the true aura of what is around us, our places in both space and time and how our kindred spirits seek out one another to pass on our troves of knowledge, I began to see like I never quite had before.

It was a matter of going to the edge of the world. Surely anyone can live in the comfort of the bubble around them. In that safety comes sanctity. But for those who wander outside these constructs, there exists a much more invigorating place. The kind of world that tests the bounds of both our imaginations and bodies. Yes, it is one of far graver danger and yes, it is not a place for everybody. It takes a sound mind and the strength of others to support oneself, yet I wholeheartedly believe in this mystical and ethereal place, I belong. I belong to the world outside the conformities of the system, in a place where I can use my gifts of speechcraft and storytelling to help others open their eyes. I will surely fail some, but for each successful being comes an empowering wave of furthering our own meanings in the universe. That is, helping mankind in an ultimate quest to understand, for that is what we all seek, no?

This is the first time I've tried writing about such an inspiring event in my life. I've known of its existence for some time, though I've always believed in my inevitable failure to depict it accurately. I'm fully aware of the ambiguity of such writing, and while some of you will finish this piece believing me to be bat-shit crazy, I want you to know that crazy is merely a different perception of the world in which we live. I do not believe in polar opposites. There is no good and evil, nor right and wrong or else crazy and sane. We live in a world that is painted in shades of grey--for all possess both good and evil, the ability to make decisions and bear the consequences of their actions, and most certainly possess the potential to innately make insanely rational decisions. If you at all should like to consider further with me the deeper roots which feed the source of my latest revelations, please leave your comments below or else, if a friend, you know how to get in touch with me.

11 November 2010

After a quick nap during class today, I found myself walking across campus, taking in the scenery around me. It was a muted, beautiful silence. As though somebody had turned down the volume on the urbanesque noises. There were no car engines, loud conversations or even the sound of the gentle breeze. It was gorgeous outside, the sun dropping behind the facades of buildings designed to further my ability to communicate this scene to you.

The skies above were royal in the sort of way you'd expect a gospel to describe. A true kingdom looming over our mundane daily tasks. How many around me wouldn't think twice about what I weighed so heavily upon? I continued my walk, juggling my own phone calls and miscellany, all the while preoccupied with the majestic painting forged by the twilight sun.

I tried to contemplate how unfeasible it would be for man to create such a color. An impossible mixture of pinks, purples, blues, oranges and whites. Nature's Architect alone knew the secret formula that was silently melting me. I took dozens of photographs, though pictures never seem to replicate the power of the human eye. While a picture may be worth a thousand words (putting my posts word count through the roof!), the vivid memories of such moments cannot be assigned an adequate value.

I continued my walk until I came upon the scene posted above. It was beautiful as the creatures of the air above me gracefully proceeded. The remains of industry scared the portrait, as plane exhaust became saturated with the vivid colors. Birds overhead flew by the thousands, weaving in and out of one another in a chaotic, yet beautiful formation. They seemed to move in slow motion as my eyes wandered, darting around just as much as the aviators heading in the opposite direction. The cool air felt refreshing against my skin. I cherished the end of the sunset, as the masterpiece gave way to night, like the artist erasing the canvas to start afresh the following morning.

09 November 2010

He tinkers in the dim light,
An unnecessary precaution for him
As the immortal day gives way
To the causal night
Meticulously testing gears
And sprockets, the finer pieces of life
He scoffs at the idea of a social construct
But romanticizes the spinning cogs
Relentless in their eternal motion
Perpetual, constant, assuring
The mantras of the blind watchmaker
As he works by the sounds of ticks and tocks
While time passes
And he produces clocks
So that the world may turn like watch hands.

08 November 2010

In a world where man finds himself so caught up worshipping the blinking satellites above, relaying their precious data seamlessly as fast as the speed of said blinking light itself, it is important to remember the celestial bodies that so often are obscured, either by the manmade monoliths of the big city or else by the encompassing power of man to occupy his mind elsewhere. The sun, Sol, invigorating and revitalizing the senses that are desensitized by the day-in and day-out of the everyday world. Or perhaps the lunar beauty that acts as its foil once the sun has completed its daily task. The distant Venus, seductively far away and yet the sister planet to our own strange world. As with all entities in the world, both good and bad arrise from these objects. The sun, with the ability to lift spirits, elicit chemical responses within the human body, and darken our delicate skin also possesses the power to unleash immense radioactive flares, grow cancer within our feeble bodies and burn us for getting greedy. And the moon, a silent beauty that observes the night from above. It is the core of Romanticism and what it embodies. A requited, tragic sort of love, where moon light so often illuminated the discreet meetings of star-crossed lovers. Consequently, the moon, while illuminating such deep emotion, also shines a spotlight on the wicked corners of night. The burglars and vagrant rapists who skew the alleyways and cracked, empty parking lots.

As the ancient Greeks knew better than any, and a wise piece of historic advice that has found itself ringing in my ears again and again, all in moderation. With a balance of the sun, the moon, the starry bodies and artificial creations of human innovation, a success can be achieved. The kind of success that fills, not the pockets, but rather the soul. So to anyone who may come across this without enough time in the average day-to-day, find a few minutes to step outside. Whether it be the heat of the afternoon or the latest hour, take in some light, for it is always available in some form. Feel its potential, as it empowers our vision and also our curious and wandering minds.

07 November 2010

Gone are the days when war was romantic
Gone are the days of unsolved mysteries
In its place computers and cord
Furiously entangling the world
Constricting what was once natural
And beautiful. A necessary evil.
Look forward though and not back
For in that romance was great horror
And uncertainty.
The Age of Knowledge is upon us
Yet while knowledge empowers,
Knowledge may still be too much
Unwanted, for the simple-minded.
Those who need not virtual access
To the billions amongst us.
Their fingertips, instead, stay hardened
Solitude and hard work drives their day
Not Solitaire and hardly working.
So who is right in their way of life?
Both. Respectively.
As time transcends, from sonnets to cyberspace
There is no such thing as mistakes,
Just opportunity.

As thoughts run through my head, I wonder over and over how to tell the world. It truly is a constant flux of thoughts and beliefs. Like the battles of a war void of outcome. I win some, I lose some. And in those moments of doubt, world, I find sanctuary in my love for writing. It is my staple, my constant, my anchor. When so much is unpredictable, to have something so valued and safe in life can do far more than that of any therapy. As sure as the sun setting outside my window now, I emphasize that you heed this paramount advice. Find what makes you happy and exploit it. Use it. Make it your slave without remorse. At the same time, cherish it. Treat it like the God you pray for. Take refuge and lay down with it when the chaos of the world inevitably seeks you out.

I believe in it. I may not belong here, and I may not belong anywhere. But, at the end of the day, whether I'm acting solipsistic or not, I can count on myself and my words to carry me through. If this blog isn't a testament to that, then I'm not sure what is. I can't confirm that anybody will read this as I write. And if I woke up tomorrow the only person left in the world, I would still write. For my sanity and for the hope that should someone stumble across it, that they can take away a small piece of advice to apply to their own lives. Individuality. When you parr it down, that is the quintessential purpose. To be you. To know and trust in your existence, the only existence you can count on. Until you find another existence to count on. To really, truly count on. Then you never let go. Not deep down.

So heed this message well, my friends. Know that I am not preaching. Rather, I'm merely suggesting how I've found what I deem success, and maybe some small sliver of it will help you in some way, whether it be related or not. Sometimes the answers we seek are in the places we don't find ourselves looking. Until next time.

So here I am, writing to you on this lazy Sunday afternoon. The weather outside reminds me of that one girl from that one party. You know the type, right? Looks great, and from a distance you just want to be part of it. However, once you commit, you realize that it's just a facade, and in reality it's cold. Guess looks aren't everything. That's outside today. I wake up and it looks like summer again. I want to be outside getting some sunlight. I finally decide it is a good idea and low-and-behold, it's in the 40s. It was even worse this morning when it was 34, but still looked like a typical late summer/early autumn type moment. That one girl from that one party. Cold and beautiful.

I feel like I'm coming more to terms with the idea that that grass is greener on the other side. I always want what I can't have and when I have the thing that I wanted, I'm back to square one. First I want stability, then I want freedom, then I want stability again. In an ideal world, I'll find some middle ground. Stable and free. The good life. Until then, I'm just going to keep running at 120%. No need for sleep, no need for rationality. Just a life filled with spontaneous doings, trusting my instincts and living in the now. I like it like that. I don't really care what happens good or bad, because I'm convinced that life is what you make it. In light of bad happenings, something good will arise, like a phoenix from the ashes. In terms of good times, there is usually a silver lining; an unexpected expense for acting in such a manner. No matter what though, the scale balances out. The greater forces at work wouldn't let it happen any other way. So maybe I'm a fatalistic optimist. Maybe I hate labels and only associate myself as such because people need names for things. Isn't that funny? The necessity for humankind to make sure everything has adequate words for it, when so often is the case that we can't surmise what we truly mean with the limitations of English. I think that is what I find so sexy about it. A constant and never-ending struggle to so carefully choose the right words. Succeed, and the world is yours for the taking. Fail, and you're just like everybody else. Not so bad, ladies and gentlemen, ma'ams and sirs. Not. So. Bad.

05 November 2010

I'm dozing off again and again as I progressively wear my body out. It is a repeated trend each fall semester, with my final burnout happening right around Christmas vacation. It'll allow me a few weeks to recharge, though I plan to do so with some serious writing progress on the novella.

It's been awhile since I've published something creative, so let's give it a whirl...

Hands and Wheels, Ten and Two
by Trey Campbell
Downtime, uptime, more like uptime
All the time, not enough time
What I could do with just a little more time
Time and time again, I think about me
Me and you, us and them, but not really them
Just us, and how you seem to stop time
When I see you, I want more time
And I know it's not yet our time
But is there ever really a good time
For Me and you, us against them
Timid about time, tick tock
Tick tock. Tick tock.
It drives my day, in and out
Time to get over it though
As it is inevitable as death itself
And to death it'll inevitably lead.
Time.

Kind of channeling some beat poetry here. A little Ginsberg maybe? At least that was what I was going for. My mind is so fatigued. It is a good thing I don't have any raves, concerts or travel planned this weekend. Just good sleep and good times.

04 November 2010

Oh, Michigan. I'm becoming steadily more disappointed in you and the quality of life as time goes on. Yes, this is a rant. Just a warning. If you don't want to read it, don't. But there are two things that are very disconcerting to me. The first is the couch ban in Ann Arbor. No more couches on porches, says the city. The reasoning: A couch on a porch caught on fire and a student died. I feel bad for the student, I really do. But really, what kind of bullshit knee jerk reaction is that? If a couch inside a house caught fire and killed a student, would they ban furniture inside houses? Doubtful. If a house caught on fire in Ann Arbor, would they ban houses? What kind of stupid fucking question is that? It just is annoying that after hot debate, the best solution was to remove furniture from porches, a staple of my college lifestyle once I lived off-campus. I can't even remember how many days we'd sit out overlooking Packard on the couch, rain or shine. Bring our computers and some left-over pizza, maybe a flat beer too and sit on the porch and talk. Not anymore because apparently couches on porches kill people exclusively.

Second thing I'm pissed about: Banning 4Loko. More particularly, banning in Michigan all 55 alcoholic energy drinks. A few documented cases of hospitalized kids is a media frenzy. Surely more frat/sorority girls go to the hospital for alcohol poisoning on a weekly basis. Yet there are no efforts to curb that. Instead, the media is running away with a public panic and inducing hysteria to the masses about something that should be more carefully regulated. They say children have it in refrigerators at home. Yeah? Well if parents gave a shit a little bit more, maybe they would see the energy drink says "contains alcohol" in 7 different places. This is not an issue of 4Loko being potent or lethal compared to any other alcohol. Rather, it is an issue of how people are stupid.

02 November 2010

It has been awhile since my last post. My apologies to you, my faithful readers. I write as a study break from some literature. The required kind. The kind that gives off the appearance of sucking, but will surely come up in conversation years from now and I'll be glad to have some witty comment to make.

I write today to discuss escapism. A powerful utility in the arsenal of humankind, though with that powerful ability comes a sort of admittance of defeat. There is a difference between escapism and taking a step back, or sleeping on an idea before discussing it. Escapism is the instant in-and-out departure from some event one does not want to face. I see it as an ultimate sign of weakness in an individual (don't worry, I'm not targeting anybody specifically).

I've taken notice that substances tend to be the most frequented means of escapism. I am most certainly not the person to preach disapproval towards the use of a stimulant or depressant, yet I can safely say that the abuse of these goods in a way that only puts a band-aid on a bullet hole won't lead anywhere productive. There is a distinct difference between recreational use and having a problem in which one needs to use to get away.

For me personally, my means of escape is music. I'll put my reputation on the line to say that music can effectively cure any wounded emotion, as well as unite, diversify, broaden horizons and convey messages that simple words or actions cannot. It is one of the most powerful of means to solve problems available and should heavily be utilized. I can get high simply by listening to a powerful song. I can become intoxicated by a sweet melody or a cunning lyric. If you are going to abuse something, abuse music. Just don't abuse it with Lady Gaga or Nickelback.

Speaking of Lady Gaga, please let me rant very briefly. I will be the first to admit that Lady Gaga's songs are annoying as shit. Plain and simply put, it is bad music. Catchy in all the ways that make me want to smash my head against cement pilons. However, Lady Gaga is a necessary component of our world. She is iconic, in the way that the remembered celebrity greats of our parent's generation were. It really hit me when I was in Italy and people over there hummed her songs, not knowing a single lyric, yet madly in love with the music. While she may be an odd woman and unconventional at that, and er music may fall on daft ears, happily and mindlessly droning away though to her pop-soaked candycane lyrics, she is representative of our collective society. She is the stereotype of the 2000s celebrity woman. She is the Madonna replacement, and before long, there will come another, ready to step into her shoes (or whatever the hell she is wearing on her feet these days). I can certainly respect her ability to perform, her ability to win over mass numbers of people and the fact that she does what she wants and doesn't give a shit how it makes her look. She is the most appealing hermaphrodite I've ever seen. I tip my hat and drink to her for those reasons.

31 October 2010

Despite an absurd lack of sleep, the drive tonight has been very thought-provoking and inspiring. I found it to be a great remedy for a weekend of shenanigans and late-night antics. The sky tonight was perfect--a word I try to avoid using at all costs. The sunset cast the cloudy horizon ablaze in a hue that escapes both an accurate description and the camera lens alike. In that handful of minutes of divine intervention, I bore witness to one of the most gorgeous celestial skylines I'd ever seen. I felt my heart and brain work in sync to convey a proper emotion, but none were to be found. And while it had only just started, my time was limited. In only a few short minutes, the moment had passed to a more standard dusk. It was a shared secret between me and the heavenly body above. Alone for me to make note of while my sleepy companions dreamt of such a view. The fiery sky burned its image into my eyes as I found myself distracted from the highway before me. Like a handful of other memories, it truly will be a moment to relish, consider, then reconsider. The blossomed flower that was the burning clouds above faded into a deep yellow as the sun dropped below the horizon. The silhouettes of water towers and trees dotted the distance as a river of head and taillights organically weaved down the highways. I raced the sun across the country on our respective quests westward. Inevitably, I lost, yet in many ways, I was the winner.

30 October 2010

I have spent the past week living life in the fast lane. Rock star mentality--drugs, sex and rock n roll. Ok not really. More like traveling across the country, drinking and not sleeping, seeing and doing what I want. It is amazing and I find myself for the first time experiencing addiction. I have addiction to the need to do things that I enjoy. What I do in these night hours is to live. Not the acts of a Trey who wants to help others selflessly. Not that I don't enjoy that. Sometimes I just want some "get my shit figured out" time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm about to brave the Baltimore streets. It looks as though I may get mugged. If so, bring it DC. Melting face.

They rarely come when you expect them. Tonight at a party, I determined my future. Was it the adequate place for it? Most likely not. I just knew though, what I'd known all along. I hadn't scored as well as I needed. Not high enough to convince me to invest that sort of time and money, anyways. I've been teetering with the idea that it was all destined to happen this way. Part of a grand legacy I could pass down in writing or interview as an inspiration of not giving up when things don't "work out."

I suppose what it boils down to is a combination of two things: Not taking "no" for an answer and finding a way to success while not taking "no" for an answer. It is no longer the simple matter that I will just fight the system until I win, but rather to succeed while doing it. That is the essence of my aspired goal. I will find a way to write and do so well.

28 October 2010

I'm patiently waiting my departure for the nation's capital. I've got good music, good company and all the best problems a 21-year old guy could have. There are very few things I could complain about in life right now. I've got a stack of good literature to read over the next few months, as well as a stack of good literature to write. I find myself drawing inspiration on those around me more and more. "Write what you know," and "Show, don't tell," is what Jeremiah Chamberlin instilled in my throughout my college writing classes. Original advice? Hardly, but nobody drilled it into my thick skull quite as well as JC.

I hope to take much away from these readings, to enhance both my writing and social standards. The two things I have an undying passion for: writing and people.

Alas, I must finish packing my belongings for my travels to DC. Expect several posts throughout the weekend as interesting things or inspirational occurrences transpire. There should be several places throughout the weekend in which I can draw an enlightenment or important junction in my life. I have a good feeling about this.

This morning was one of the strangest feelings I've experienced in some time. As I got ready for work, and wandered outside, all was still. There were no vehicles driving down the street, no leaves rustling on the ground, and most importantly, no people wandering the sidewalks. I was listening to Brian Eno and time seemed to suspend itself. It is in these moments that I begin to feel a little anxious, tensely wondering when somebody was going to come from around the corner to make the bus. Actually, I was wondering if the bus was going to come at all.

It is a frightening and empowering feeling with the brief contemplation that I may have been the last human being on the planet. I knew that in all likelihood, it was just me being paranoid, yet I couldn't shake the gut feeling that something was off about the day. What would I do should I find myself that last human being? It would only be a matter of days before electrical grids shut down. Of course, one always presumes they would go drive fast cars and swim in the pools of celebrity mansions, stealing luxury yachts and the such, but I was standing there in the middle of Hoover Street thinking more practically. What would I do for food, how long would the electricity grid stay online. How long would the Internet stay online? I began theorizing about how I would need to teach myself how to operate complex equipments to ensure survival. I must be a little bit insane.

Luckily, the bus made the eventual turn onto my street and arrived without a hitch. The driver was there, though the rest of the bus was empty until its second stop. I felt reassured to see other people get on the bus. My senses seemed more in tune, sharpened. Everybody who walked by me seemed to smell fantastic. I noticed the fine details of their preparing themselves for social environments and wondered, if I were the last human being, would I find it necessary to stay well kept. Shaving my facial hair, etc. They all seem like social normed, but are so ingrained into my self that I believe I'd find a way to stay presentable. If for no one else, than for my personal sanity and well-being. Dress sharp, play sharp.

Maybe I'm superficial. I really do enjoy that which is beautiful. Mostly in the form of music, portraits, moments and words. Especially words. To any of you lady readers out there, it doesn't take more than a few well crafted, beautiful sentences to really get me up and going. Like I said, maybe I'm superficial. There is all of too much "ummm" and "like" in this world to not respect a person who can speak well. I can also really appreciate somebody who chooses their words carefully. The kind of person who will opt not to use two words when one will suffice. I'm not sure if that is because it leaves more time for me to run my mouth (which I've been known to do) or if it is simply because it is attractive for one to be so decisive.

On an unrelated note, the wind outside is haunting me while I write. It is moving fast enough to kind of project a screeching gale outside my window. I half expect a scene from a horror movie to ensue, as I sit here in my dim apartment, finishing these posts, some reading and wine. It is slightly disturbing though, a sort of unnatural sound that makes me a tense.

On yet another unrelated note, I think I shall spend the rest of my evening reading. At some point, the writing will only carry one so far. It becomes important to take in new stylistic approaches and unique phrases to advance and broaden one's writing. It is the same thing is training in that the voice, technique, etc of those I read should, theoretically, improve the style of my writing by allowing me to take bits and pieces of what works and compile it into my own literary voice. It is a technique that has carried me far in other aspects of my life, so we'll see if writing is yet another thing I may master over the next several years.

I have found, much to my dismay and best efforts, that I'm alone in my apartment tonight. At first, I had my doubts about it. There were so many things I could do to waste time; but, it was just that--wasting time. I opted against the Xbox and didn't want to go back to sleep as I'd been resting the last three hours. That should put me on track for a bedtime of approximately 4am...

So what did I come up with? Well, tonight it is just me, a vintage bottle of Shiraz (Thank you!) and the blog. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, my spare time goes out to you...and you...and you. With that, I'll conclude this brief, fairly uncreative post with something more on the writing side, and build off it in my subsequent posts as the Shiraz trickles into my brain and blows open the whole creative process.

Our Story
An Original Song by Trey Campbell

I close my eyes and see the starry skies
From far Up North and several worlds ago
So tell me how we're star-crossed lovers
When skies are faded by the city glow.

Take my coat because its cold out, baby
As we speak words that can't express our thoughts
So I'll take your hand and try to show you
Try my best and then you can call the shots.

[Bridge]
Honey, our story is a page-turner
So leave me dog-eared and never look back
Because I write us on and on and on
--
[Chorus]
The winds whistle a long-forgotten song
About these feelings that had faded fast
Well now they're back and it's a damn tornado
Brace yourself 'cause these changes will not pass

And when you're gone, though you're never really gone
I'll stumble out into the streets and call you
Despite the distance, I can touch you right here
Just to let you know that I can feel it too
--
I say let us make the best memories
And nights that we can try our best to forget
With the assistance of finished bottles
Vivid moments that I won't surrender yet

[Chorus]

I write this song so that you'll know it, baby
This song explains everything I could not say
Immortalized in verse for you to listen
Just pack your bags and tell me we can get away.

[Bridge]
[Chorus x2]

Hey girl, maybe I do like the city glow
Let's make our own stars, wish on the afterglow.

27 October 2010

I was so tired that I felt as if I were dreaming before my eyes finished closing. It was a melodic rest, albeit quick. If only time functioned as such in moments of anticipation. Today my mind feels foggy and I know that sleep will come quickly wherever I allow it. I know I'm playing a dangerous game, as my immune system gets more feeble with each restless night. In some ways, I feel like it is a test of my resilience. To see how much rebel I have in me and to know my own limitations. Mostly though, it's just stupidity. I waste a lot of time that I'll never have again. I value the importance of sleep, nearly now as much as I value being awake, the silent guardian who rests only after the world around him harmonizes in their respective dreamworlds.

Honestly though, I've treated my body poorly. Not showing it the respect it deserves, I filter it with poison, neglect my workout regime and deprive it of it's natural recharging processes. I can always attribute it to youth, but for how much longer? I make excuses that things will adjust when my life settles down, but will it ever really settle down? Will I allow it to ever really settle down? Live fast, die young. Love fast, love long? At least my mind remains sharp, despite the abuse. Until next time, friends.

Though I cannot discover an adequate reason why, I feel much more comfortable sleeping in places that are not my own bed. Right now, I find myself on the couch and perfectly comfortable to sleep. Yet, as soon as I get in my bed, I toss and turn and roll around. I have no reasonable explanation and I find it very interesting.

Only five more days until my LSAT scores arrive. It is odd how much importance we place on test results, numbers that dictate the "intelligence" of an individual. There are plenty of other ways one could be deemed smart. How they interact socially, for example. I know many people who could convince the devil to sell his soul, yet they don't have the capability to sit down and take tests. This bothers me very much. We allow this standardized set of numbers and scaling dictate who is good enough for a particular school, etc.

Perhaps it is just coincidence or my naivety, but it seems as though very few people who become superstars or game-changers fared well under the conventional norms of academia. A recurring pattern? Does success only typically become a viable option to those who work outside the box?Surely there is some sort of connection. I think in some way, it is a necessary precaution that the academic system and the societal regulations that come with it do their best not to promote stardom. That is, it comes across as a sort of brainwashing where they instill ideas in each student about their aptitude and what they'd be good at someday. Are they even qualified to say what another individual would be good at? Even today, there is so much we don't know about one another. It kind of makes me a little bit sad. Que sera, sera.

Ps I just woke up on my couch after dozing off the last half hour. This is exactly what I was talking about before!

26 October 2010

Around the hour of 4 last night, I found myself wandering the diag (don't worry about it). It was a beautiful night with a warm breeze and I found myself comfortably soaking up the solitude. In a post-rave afterglow, things couldn't have been much better. I had time to think, and thinking I did. Surrounding me, leaves fell and swirled, crackling along the sidewalk and occasionally startling me that somebody was sneaking up on me. Of course, there was nobody there, just nature playing her tricks on me. My adrenaline was still spiked from the show earlier and I was still humming the tunes to myself. Those damn tunes. Always stuck in my head, day in and day out. It drives me through long nights on the road, or assists my drooping eyes when I have a daunting night of homework.

It was a phenomenal night. Some of my favorite company, my favorite sort of scene, and good memories. I felt great throughout the night, continuing my best day ever. Positivity follows positivity. I find myself convinced that good things happen to the optimistic and vice versa to the Debbie Downers of the world. It makes it difficult for those who don't see the glass half full, but I, fortunately, do not fall in that group. I have yet to think of a valid or rational reason why my theory seems to hold true, as there is no scientific way to prove such subjective things. I guess it all falls in the eye of the beholder. Regardless, the power of the music and the company of some amazing and beautiful people really sealed the night in my memory banks. Thank you.

25 October 2010

Either complete a task or don't. There isn't much of a middle ground. I'll illustrate with an example. This morning, I see the bus coming down the road from my upstairs apartment window. I was probably 98% ready to leave, yet I felt the rush. I grabbed my bag, sprinted down the spiral staircase, grabbed my coat and ran out the door. Mind you, the bus had already been at the stop for several seconds. I knew my time was almost expired, that the bus would soon pull away and I'd be left to walk or bike into work. I'm already running a little behind, so it seems that making the bus would only be logical. I jump a few flights of stairs, dart across traffic and in front of the anxious bus. Fortunately, the driver stops to avoid hitting me, which I exploit as my moment to enter. He doesn't look happy, but I'd rather it be him than my boss.

The moral of my story is that if you want to get something done, find a way to make it happen. If you succeed, then your fastidiousness paid off. If you fail, learn from your mistakes so you don't fail again, at least not in the same way. Persevere and don't compromise when it comes to yourself. I like to think of it as he (or she) who has a mentality of not allowing "no" to be an answer may have a more difficult journey there, but will find a much more rewarding destination in the end. Either that or you'll end up alone and unhappy. I guess that is the risk, one must decide, if they're willing to take.

I was just thinking about this: does the phrase, "when you fall off the horse, what do you do? You get back on the horse" refer to heroin, as the "horse" is a slang term for heroin?

Random thought, but anyhow, it has been another long night of studying. Just wanted to take a break before sleep to let me know I'm thinking about you, my unconfirmed readers. Feel free to utilize the comment system and let me know your opinions, etc. There is no better way to grow than to be criticized. Compliments are nice too, though.

As I sit here, all I hear around me is the buzzing of the fluorescent bulb. It is calming in an industrialized product sort of way. Unnatural, yet familiar, the noise of the light has been a staple of my life, permeating my education throughout school and to the far reaches of my social climate. Upon closer listening, I think about my breathing. It is calm and shielded by the buzz of the light, but far more beautiful. I mean this, of course, in the most non-arrogant of ways. Breathing in general though. To think that each inhale is a gift and each exhale helping complete the circle. Archetypes of life and what perpetuates it. It is rhythmic and organic. A complex system that few consider in common thought. I fear I often take such miracles for granted, so I fulfill my due diligence by writing of it here, immortalized for anyone who may stumble across it. It is our life force--our fuel; the renewable and sustainable energy that all should consider the biggest blessing of them all. May your resting breaths be long and slow, revitalizing you for the days to come. Each in itself is unique and by no means assured, so rest and be aware of how, despite the shit life throws at you, at least you're still breathing.

24 October 2010

Making my way from Charlevoix to Ann Arbor. I feel fresh and new. My mind is clear and my batteries recharged. It has been a productive and nice trip home so far. We drove through the most magnificent lightning storm, where the bolts danced across the sky, illuminating the fields I've driven by so many times before, but in a way I hadn't previously seen.

Meaningless?
Trey Campbell

Let us go down, down, down
Into the night and then some
For we are traveling gypsies
With no place to call home-
Rather, our home is us
So we go down, down, down
Because seeing is believing
And I truly apologize, ma'am
For we have not opened our eyes
To the compass' freedom
And still, we go down, down, down
Until we find our way home.

23 October 2010

Home again, home again. It's been several long months, yet in my almost immediate return I realized the problems shrouded in the shadowy corners of my small resort town. It is almost comical, our town takes the nickname "The Beautiful." While that in itself is not particularly humorous, it is completely and utterly ironic just how backwards a statement it makes.

Our town is like the class bitch. Everybody knows she is hot. Everybody wants a piece of her real estate. However, what she hides best is that she has a lot of problems and insecurities underneath that cosmetically sound, flawless face.

I guess, though I cannot attest to it, that many small towns function in such ways. Racial intolerance, crooked cops and powerful families controlling the politics in their favor. It has all the makings of a shitty novel, yet I aspire to write one exploiting (while changing the names to protect the innocent, of course!) the real roots of what keeps my town from being "The One"

It's an undertaking, and a risky one at that. I'll likely offend many people, but I'm going to chalk that up to the fact that people don't like when their skeletons get dug up. There are certainly focal points of the writing I'm going to do on the subject, a particular prosecuting attorney, some of the school board and related officials, etc.

Maybe I'm just being bitter. In fact, it is completely possible that none of you will ever read it. Not for a lack of my completing it, but rather because a lot of times I write to solve my own problems. It allows me to narrate objectively and, therefore, see my attacks and defenses in a more systematic and comprehensible manner--unclouded by emotions.

It reminds me of a phrase I've been running across over and over the last few days: "This is not for you." I've seen it on several blogs, posts, and even grafittid on the side of a building. That is, who am I writing for? I have the inspiration finally, but if not for you, the reader, and not for me, the author, then who? It is very likely that this blog is a conglomeration of my efforts to talk to you, help myself and maybe something further than that. It is healthy to write everyday.

So now, for putting up with my, what the Internet nerds call a WoT (Wall-of-Text), let me provide you with something creative for your reading pleasure.

Forbidden Fruit
By Trey Campbell

How do I end up in places like this?
Where the normal is not, that's where I am
And I'm tempted down into the abyss
Of temptation's touch, to which I condemn
My forbidden fruit, oh my secret gem
You bring me trouble, yet I still come near
Lured by the representational femme
While I walk closer, I surely don't fear
That in my heart of hearts I may hold you so dear.

I write to you from the roads running north. With hopes of a rejuvenating and healthy weekend, I'm going to see my family for the first time since July. It should be nice, as always to catch up with them. My sister has a volleyball tournament today. She has grown up quite fast. Though I find it hard to believe I'll conclude my undergraduate experience this spring, it is even more surprising to know she will be in college this fall. I do worry about her transition into the university atmosphere, as it is quite jarring from the small town mentality. However, if she does half as well as I did my first semester, then she'll be alright. I don't doubt her knowledge in academia, but she has much to learn about the world.

The roads are beautiful today. The sun is fighting through the cloud cover, illuminating the leaves of trees partially, as though they're on stage, performing for those who passby. My two fellow carpoolers are from NYC and LA, respectively. They are in awe, as they come from much different worlds than that of Michigan. It elicits within a degree of pride, like my state is a hidden gem to these "city folk." It is therapeutic to make this drive; I'll swear by it. As the clouds take back reign over the faltering sun, drops of rain begin to fall. It looks as though we will get the full nature spectrum today, save maybe (and hopefully!) a snowfall. I have much else on my mind, but for a change it is nothing but good problems to have. Enjoy your Saturday.

22 October 2010

Precursor: Sometimes I find myself experiencing a simultaneous spectrum of emotion. "How," you might ask, "can you be happy and sad at the same time?" Well, read on and maybe you'll have a better understanding of how it is feasible.

There are few things in the world that rank better than a good conversation. Really digging down and learning another person. In some ways, it reminds me of how I think the explorers of the old world felt as they mapped out uncharted territory. Everybody has a unique story and those experiences and ancedotes really map out the essence of who an individual is. We are social cartographers, mapping out our perceptions through a varying degree of conversation. Everybody has something that really "gets them," and in my case, I'm a sucker for a good talk. The kind of talk that could endlessly go into the night, racing the stars across the sky and running off to beat the rising morning sun. I live for moments like those, perfect in exactly what they are, without needing anything else to provide me with a word-ecstasy. It is those memories, of conversations I don't want to end, of words exchanged and broadening my horizons that I will continue to remember and relish as other memories fade. Thanks to each and every one of you who have contributed to these feelings. Wherever I find myself at with you at this point, whether an old friend or new, a distant past or upcoming future, you are the people who have, do and will make my world turn.

Part II: Some Fucked Up Shit

There are few things in the world that rank lower than having no control in a situation. A friend of mine announced tonight that he was, in fact, diagnosed with lymphatic cancer and will be disenrolling from school to combat this plaguing tumor. Now this friend of mine, whether it be that he is scared out of his mind or else really does let it control his life, is handling the issue in an almost comical way. It is truly part of his persona, the man hired me to help out with his satire newspaper after all. Life's just one big joke for him, but deep down I know he isn't going to give up or give in that easy. It just strikes me when I hear of something like this, and how it really isn't fair. As I consider fairness, I hear my mom in my head saying, "Life isn't fair." I never really understood the implications of what she was saying while growing up. It was always so trivial. Whether my younger sister had the same privileges I did while growing up. In retrospect, I was fucking stupid. Or maybe just young and naive. Regardless, life really is not fair. People who have done nothing wrong in the world, or people who aren't old enough to have done something wrong in the world can unjustly be taken from us. Nobody deserves for it to happen, and it causes nothing but pain. Pain to those who host such a terrible parasite of human life, pain to the families and friends around them who cannot possibly surmount just how their lives would be affected by such a circumstance. I leave tonight with my thoughts and considerations to you, Bill and your family during these hard times. Kick that cancer's ass, and don't quit. Don't ever quit.

"The days are long, within them the archetypal good and evils the world may offer. Live each day as just that, for too much good or too much evil can never be healthy for the kindred human spirit."